


A Picture's Worth

by the_widow_twankey



Category: The Lone Ranger (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtship, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_widow_twankey/pseuds/the_widow_twankey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He took a good look at his captors. All Indians, all warriors. And if his eyes were not deceiving them there was a female among them. He turned only to meet the eyes of another warrior, not as tall as the others but obviously just as strong, there was a crow on his shoulder and his face was painted black and white. The man immediately turned his painted face away seeming almost embarrassed he’d been caught looking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Must be a white man curiosity,'  John said to himself before letting exhaustion overtake him.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Picture's Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! It's done, this fic has been in the making ever since the movie came out, so it's pretty old. Also I took away Tonto's way of talking, because I feel that it's offensive and I didn't want to go through the trouble of typing like that.
> 
> There are footnotes with this so if you see a number next to a sentence that means there is a little factoid about it. To look at the the footnote just hit ctrl+f and type in the footnote's bracketed number so that you can find the fact in the end notes. Then just use the ctrl+f feature to go back to where you left off in your reading.

John’s eyes blinked blearily in the too bright sunlight. His tongue was dry and as he became more aware he noticed that the scenery around him was moving even though he was pretty sure he was lying down. He was being pulled on some sort of gurney and was surrounded by horses and on those horses were Indians.

“Hey.” He inwardly winced at the audible click in his throat but it made his captors stop none the less. One of the men jumped off his horse to inspect him. He was big, obviously a warrior, with his customary painted part in his hair and a painted face.[1]

“Water?” he asked.

John couldn’t nod his head fast enough. He disappeared from his field of vision for a few seconds before he returned with a canteen and held the container to John’s lips. John swore no other drink in his life had ever tasted so heavenly; he ended up drinking the whole thing. He tried to apologize for drinking all of the man’s water but when he broke into a coughing fit he was shushed.

“Rest.” The native said pointing at his throat so John stayed silent. He heard the man climb onto his horse and the party started moving again. Now that John was wide awake he wanted to look at his surroundings while waiting for the panic to settle in. It didn’t. Somehow he knew that if they truly wanted to hurt him they would have done it already, he still didn’t understand why he was tied up though.

He took a good look at his captors. All Indians, all warriors. And if his eyes were not deceiving them there was a female among them.[2] He turned only to meet the eyes of another warrior, not as tall as the others but obviously just as strong, there was a crow on his shoulder and his face was painted black and white.[3] The man immediately turned his painted face away seeming almost embarrassed he’d been caught looking.

 _Must be a white man curiosity_ ,  John said to himself before letting exhaustion overtake him.

~

He woke up surrounded by water and nearly jumped a foot in the air when he realized what was happening. He was as naked as the day he was born with Comanche women cleaning him up in a river with soap they must have acquired by trade. They giggled at his wide eyes and continued washing him as if this was an absolutely normal thing while they scrubbed him until his skin was raw and pink and his hair was rinsed of suds. Afterward, he was given some linen to dry with and some soft buckskin clothes.

The women led him to a tipi after their job was apparently done. He was left alone to memories that didn’t have time to fully sink in since his ordeal. Everything came back in flashes.

Rebecca kissing her husband, his brother, goodbye before they went on their mission to catch Butch Cavendish.

The ambush and the other rangers’ shouts.

Dan getting shot, sending his horse into a panic that knocked John off balance and made him knock his head against a rock.

Him opening his eyes only to see Cavendish devour his brother’s heart before drifting back to unconsciousness.

They must have found him alive and that meant that the others were… he pulled his knees to his chest and shed tears into his folded arms. Childhood friends and a husband and father, gone. He was so wrapped up in his grief that he didn’t notice a man walk in until he felt tentative tap on his shaking shoulder.

“Come with me.” It was the one from before who gave him water.

John wiped his face with his sleeve before following him.  They took a short walk to a tipi not far away; it was one of the bigger ones. Inside were the warriors that found him along with an elderly man who John guessed was the chief. He was led to an empty space to take a seat and was given a horn of water, jerky, and some kind of bread.

“I hope you are faring well…?” the eldest man asked.

“John. John Reid. As well as I can, your tribesmen have taken good care of me.” John replied as he bit ravenously into a bit of jerky, not realizing how hungry he was.

“The rangers, my friends are they…?” He knew already but he couldn’t help but ask; to give in to some kind of hope.

“Yes.” He looked so very sorry and seemed to age more right in front of John’s eyes. “My men gave them proper burials and pulled these off of them.”

He pulled ranger stars and one Comanche medal out of the folds of his clothes and presses them into John’s hand.

“Something to remember them by. Dan, as well as your father, was a good friend to our people and his death pains us also.”

John squeezed the pieces of metal in his hand, feeling another sting of tears. A warrior with a soft, reasonable voice beside him gave him a soft leather drawstring bag.

“For them.” He said. John placed them in the bag and tied them to a loop on his pants that seem to be made for such a purpose. Though John was wracked with grief he did notice that one star was missing.

“I’m missing one star…?”

All the warriors turned to look at each other as if silently talking amongst themselves. At last the one who gave him water spoke.

“There was one more set of horse prints with Cavendish’s men; we believe there was a traitor among you.”

John’s heart was heavy, he had a feeling he knew who it was…

The chief spoke again.

“Now, we may have brought you here but that was only to nurse you, we are aware that there could be a place that you would rather be. We will take you there if you wish.”

John thought about it. He could go back home to Rebecca but he wasn’t sure he could take it; the simultaneous grieving, neither of them in no shape to help each other with loss not to mention handling Danny. His brother’s memory would be all over that house despite what little time he spent there. For people like him and Rebecca life took away the pain, tending the field, poring over books, everyday things that gradually soaked up the agony only leaving a dull, nearly unnoticeable ache. He knew it was selfish to leave her in the dark but he just wouldn’t be able to bear right now.

“I would much rather stay here.”

The chief looked surprised but eventually nodded.

“Very well, my people will show you around tomorrow.”

One by one the warriors exited the tipi, the one from before leading him to his own. He saw the black and white faced warrior, Tonto, eye him for moment before going on his way. John looked at the warrior who he believed was his unofficial keeper and decided he didn’t look _too_ scary to talk to.

“Have I offended, what’s his name-Tonto?”

The man turned to John as if truly regarding him for the first time.

“Tonto is Tonto.” Was all he said, as if that statement were more than enough.

John didn’t push for more.

~

The next day John was being led around by his keeper once again whose name he learned was Tseena.[4] He had been allowed to sleep till noon from the looks of it.

“Wash downstream,” Tseena said pointing at the stream that bordered the camp. “Drink upstream.”

Tseena, he’d learned, was a man of few words but the fact did not hinder his communication skills with his tribe or his family; his wife knew his little nuances and little tykes in the village knew when they were doing something they weren’t supposed to do when they received _the look_. John could see that he was a fierce warrior but also a kind and gentle man no matter how striking his presence with his long free flying hair and bulk of a body. John nodded to let him know that he understood and went to wash his face.

The water felt cool and crisp against his hands despite the hot arid climate around it. He decided to just go for it and duck his head under pulling up after a good couple of seconds. As he dried his face on his sleeve he saw something glint in the sunlight under the water and of course plunged his hand in to grab it. He brought it up for closer inspection. It was silver. He turned the metal over in his hand. Where had it come from?

“Curious.” John said to himself then dropped it back in.

=

Tonto couldn’t believe his eyes as spied on the man from afar. He threw it back! Like it was nothing!

Tonto planted the precious metal in the river for there was none in _this_ river, to see if the white man could be trusted. The man may have been the boy from the picture but in the end he was still a white man so Tonto needed to know who they had in their midst. But of course the man had surprised him by not even giving the thing a second glance.

Maybe…

~

John returned to his tipi after a day with the rest of the village who took care of him as if he were their own. They taught him things like cooking, washing, and taking care of hide because John was never much for hunting. Of course, he didn’t plan to stay with these people all his life but he was staying long enough that he would rather know how to take care of himself. He needed this time here before he would finally return to his own civilization.

He heard a knock on his home’s infrastructure signaling someone wanted to come in; he gave them permission. In came Tonto with a parfleche. [5]

“Hello…” said John, unsure of what to say or do since up until this point he was sure the man didn’t like him.

Tonto simply sat down next to him and opened his bag to pull out what looked like persimmons.

“Fruit?”

John took the proffered fruit gratefully, a perfect light dessert after the big evening meal he took part in. Tonto pulled out another for himself and thus they sat in silence chewing.

John really hoped Tonto was more sneaky while on the hunt because he could clearly see the Indian stealing glances at him in his periphery.

“Is there something wrong with my face?” John was a bit fed up by this point.

At first Tonto seemed confused as to what he was talking about but then as understanding dawned on his face he looked as though the idea of anything being wrong John’s face would be complete blasphemy.

“No, of course not!”

“Then why must you stare.”

“…you look familiar.”

“…that’s a lie but I’ll let it go for now.”

They went back to eating with Tonto breaking the silence this time.

“Why won’t you go back?”

Now it was John’s turn to be confused.

“Go back?” Then, “Oh, well, because at the moment I need to be away from people I know. The condolences, the pity, being an inevitable constant reminder of my sister-in-law’s husband.”

Also the guilt of not being able to save any of them, not a one.

“I will go back eventually, just not now.”

Tonto nodded and did not push the issue further; he finished his fruit and left the tipi with a polite goodbye.

~

After a week John’s days started to develop a routine, he would get escorted out by Tseena who was becoming a nice, steady companion who didn’t talk much but seem to offer something solid and steadfast in John’s life there. After this he would then help the village women with the gathering, tanning, and other village chores. If there was time, even though he wasn’t fond of it, he would sometimes go on hunts with the warriors where they taught him how to use a bow and arrow and where to find the best game. Surprisingly the warriors seemed to like him quite a lot. Sanapia [6], the woman, was always there to help notch a bow and Isa-tai [7] and Tosawi [8] always fought over to who got to carry his kill, despite John’s insistence that he was strong enough. Quanah [9] always insisted that John ride with him since John didn’t have a horse.

Tseena would watch these proceedings with an exasperated expression while Tonto seemed to always wear a tight expression that John couldn’t read.

And after evening meal Tonto would come to his tipi with fruit to talk, be it about family or the weather, or on some days chew in companionable silence. This greatly confused John. At times Tonto seemed to be okay with him or liked him in some form because why else would he be in John’s tent when he barely knew him but at other times he was distant and seemed untouchable.

He brought juniper berries with him this time and his crow was on his shoulder. Tonto handed him his serving as per usual while he sat and fed himself, feeding his bird every so often.

“What’s his name?” John asked.

Tonto looked up briefly before replying.

“Angeni. [10] He has been my companion for a long time. I owe him my life.”

“How do you owe a _bird_ your life?”

“I made a mistake.”

This caused an uncomfortable silence. John squeezed a berry in between his fingers frantically thinking of a way to salvage the tense atmosphere.

“How do your people get certain things like scented soaps and chocolates? Trade?”

“Of course,” Tonto scoffed “But I don’t trust them. I am sure that they rob us blind but since there are very few who will trade with us we accept their deals.”

John wondered if that was something he could possibly look into, it wasn’t like and other things to occupy his mind.

“When do you meet with these traders?”

“Every ‘month’,” The word was said as if it were a measure of time that he didn’t truly acknowledge. “They will come tomorrow, in fact.”

The lawman kept this in mind. He wanted to earn his keep here and if he could rectify any injustices while doing so who was he to let this opportunity go. There was one problem: he didn’t want anyone to recognize him…

There was a knock.

In walked Kimama [11], Tseena’s wife. She was a sparrow of a woman with a sweet smile and two braids.

“We washed the clothes you came in,” She said softly, looking guilty “they are not perfect. We do not possess the right thread to mend it, we could only wash-“

“No, no, no!” John felt like a heel, he didn’t want to see her that way; he took the clothes from her while bowing his head in gratitude. “It’s fine, you’ve done more than enough and look, at least my gigantic hat is spotless.”

She giggled at the stab at his fashion sense and politely excused herself. He walked aimlessly around his home while examining the state of his clothes. They were cleaned quite well but they were ripped, there were two eye sized holes right beside each other-

“Tonto, do you have a knife?”

~

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” says the heavy browed trader; Lloyd was his name if John heard correctly and really he can’t blame him for asking that because he looked ridiculous. He had donned his enormous hat (he can admit it now) and cut a makeshift mask from the lining of his jacket. He was also dressed in his ranger clothes; they were a little worse for wear and frayed but they looked presentable enough. Plus he had a bit of scruff and his hair was a bit longer. A disguise. Though he was pretty sure these men did not know him before today it was better safe than sorry.

“He is a visitor earning his keep,” the chief spoke. “Pay him no mind for now.”

And so the trading began and the prices were fair, trinkets for trinkets.  Lloyd looked shifty as hell while munching on his chew; his crew was oddly quiet though. The chief constantly kept an eye on John as did the other warriors, silently asking if everything was honest. Which it was, until they started trading fur for chocolate, a treat for the little ones.

“The fur is worth more chocolate than that and you know it.” John interjected.

Lloyd sent a dirty look his way.

“Who asked you, ya half-assed cowboy?”

“It doesn’t matter who asked me anything, you’re still robbing them.

Lloyd turned his pockmarked face to the chief with an expression that was a parody of disappointed.

“We trade for months and this is how you repay me, seems those rumors were right.”

“What rumors?” the chief inquired cautiously.

“That you Injuns don’t like us anymore, unless we’re scraggly ranger wannabes in a hat you could swim in.” He paused to spit. “You’ve attacking people, breakin’ treaties, leaving death in yer wake.”

The chief looked outraged.

“That is not true, unlike you white men, we do not attack without reason and besides our people leave nothing behind. We do not waste.”

“Like I’m gonna believe a desert dwelling red skin.” He started packing his wares. “Doesn’t matter though, we’ll be taking our business elsewhere.”

And with that Lloyd and his crew started to leave as did the warriors so the peculiar nod that Lloyd sent to one of his men nearly went unnoticed. John was petrified when a thin but quick man came at him with a knife and nearly fainted in overwhelming relief when a certain black and white faced warrior stepped in front of him and stopped the killing strike.

After that all hell broke loose.

The altercation was surprisingly brief, ending with every trader tied up and sitting in their wagon with horses ready to be slapped on the rump to urge them back to town but John had other plans.

“Wait,” he said to the chief. “You haven’t gotten all the things you wanted from them yet.”

The chief simply looked at him.

“Look in this state they can’t con you, you all can grab what you want and I’ll tell you the correct cost. _True_ fair trade.”

~

After everyone obtained their heart’s desire they were merciful enough to untie Lloyd so that he could actually drive his wagon full of correctly traded goods, watching him closely and promising to shoot him full of arrows unless he disappeared peacefully into the distance.

John made his way to his tipi to change his clothes and unmask; the supple softness of buckskin has him spoiled and he couldn’t wait to get back in them. He was about to pull on a pair of pants when he heard the flap open. He turned around to see Tonto with a bag and wearing a peculiar expression.

“Oh, hello,” John said, “Pardon my lack of clothing but you didn’t knock so…”

Tonto seemed to shake himself and took on his usual unperturbed persona.

He paused to give John the bag. “These are for you, a gift from us, Kemosabe.”

John took it with a ‘thank you’ and opened it. Inside was a complete shaving-tackle [12].

“You didn’t have to do this!” He was incredibly grateful; he had feared the scruff he was growing, he preferred clean shaven.

Tonto raised his hand to quiet his protests.

“You have earned it.” And for the first time since John had been here Tonto seemed open and sincere so it seemed appropriate to hug the man. He immediately regretted the decision when he felt the man stiffen against him and pulled away. Belatedly, John realized he was still half naked.

“I’m sorry I-“

Tonto simply awkwardly patted his elbow with a tight smile and exited the tipi leaving John feeling like he had done something wrong.

~

The next morning John put his shaving-tackle to use post haste and caressed the long missed smooth skin of his jaw afterward. He took a moment to ponder his reflection in stream, his hair was little longer than usual and it, along with his buckskin and light tan, made him look like some wild thing which gave him pleasure in a way he couldn’t explain. He wondered if Rebecca would recognize him or what Dan would say if he could see him now. Dan would probably be all too pleased to see John looking less like a genteel lawman. The thought put a tight feeling in his throat which he forced away. One day at a time…

John went back to his tipi to see a small crowd in front it, a crowd that saw his arrival and immediately parted to reveal Tosawi standing over a recently slain elk.

“I am a skilled hunter.” He told a surprised John. “You will never go hungry. Do you accept?”

John wanted to ask why he felt that his hunger was his business but instead accepted the gift without question to avoid being rude. This seemed to please Tosawi greatly, so much so that he whooped; even the crowd was excited. This seemed like an inappropriate amount of excitement for just accepting a gift so John was terribly confused. He managed to catch sight of Tonto, the only one who didn’t look excited; in fact, he looked slightly peeved. John stepped forward to ask what the fuss was about but Tonto turned and walked away.

The peculiarity didn’t end there, later that day he received kills from Isa-tai, Quanah, and Sanapia and like Tosawi they asked for his “acceptance”, something he was still confused about. John was extremely relieved when the chief asked him if he wanted to share his gifts with the tribe as he observed the offerings with an amused expression that John didn’t understand. So he cleaned the meat with the other village women including Kimama who would look at him wistfully every so often like she was remembering days gone by. What was wrong with everyone?

After a dinner of the native vegetables and a least one piece of every game John was stuffed and sleepy and fell on his bedding with gratitude. He was just lamenting his lack of books when he heard a knock. He called them in. In walked Tonto with what appeared to be slightly melted chocolate which he handed to John without preamble.

“Thank you, Tonto really but I’m really full.” He paused to turn over. “I’ll take a book if you have one though, particularly Locke’s _Two Treatises of Government_.”

Tonto looked bit taken aback and then replied in with a statement that seemed to have a hidden annoyance.

“Maybe can get one of your…” Tonto paused in a way that did when he couldn’t find the correct English word for something. “…suitors to get it for you.”

This made John sit up.

“Suitors? What?”

Tonto’s expression seemed to soften, looked relieved somehow.

“You do not understand what has happened today. Sometimes we forget that you are not one of us.”

“What’s happened today?” John could feel his patience waning. “What are you talking about?”

“The warriors, they want to…” Trying to find the right word. “…court you [13]. You accepted.”

John was speechless and slowly everyone’s behavior that day started to make sense. He said the first thought that came to mind, a very un-John-like thing to do.

“But they’re mostly men!” he sputtered.

At first Tonto looked legitimately confused but then his expression changed to something that resembled hurt.

“I forget that the white man abides by different laws.”

“You mean this is _normal_?”

“Only the white man limits love. [14]”

“Don’t get me wrong, Tonto, I don’t find it wrong on principle. I see no the harm in the practice of…that.” He ran a hand through his growing locks. “It’s just really overwhelming to see people welcome it so easily.”

 “Besides,” John continued. “It’s not as much as them being men, Sanapia excluded. I’m sure I could grow to love a man if I _really_ wanted to but I don’t feel that way about any of them, I had no idea what I was a agreeing to and don’t want to disappoint them, plus I'm not going to always be here.”

Tonto stayed quiet for a while before speaking.

“We are no stranger to travel so your absence would mean nothing... but _I_ will court you. You will accept and let the others have their fun but after some time you will say yes to me by coming to my tipi.

“’Coming to your tipi?’ That seems improper there’s no ceremony or…?”

Once again Tonto looked confused.

“Never mind.”

“We wait, and then…we part ways.” Tonto finished in a tone that was almost melancholy.

“So I leave you? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“…okay.”

Tonto got up to leave, pausing as he opened the flap.

“Be ready.”

~

John was ready the next day. Ready for another sizable elk or pronghorn

Not an enormous bison.

Tonto looked unusual. He looked every bit the proud chief’s warrior he was supposed to be. Mind you, he was no shrinking violet otherwise but he was quite watered down compared to Sanapia, Tosawi, and Isa-Tai’s young swagger. Even Tseena who was older and Quanah who was more mature had a certain proud countenance. If it weren’t for Tonto being present with these warriors during important goings-on John would have never figure him to be anything other than a well-dressed villager but now he stood confident with chin held high.

“Do you accept?”

“Yes.” Though John will never say it aloud he doubts he could have said no, plan or not.

After the spectacle, John goes to help the women pull the bison away to be skinned and cleaned but catches Tseena and the others heading towards the chief’s tipi. Knowing that such a thing meant there was something important happening he slipped behind the tipi and listened.

“We are being framed,” it was the chief.

This doesn't sound good.

“What are they trying to accomplish?” Quanah.

“I believe they are trying to make the white man want death upon us.” Tseena said. “When no one sympathizes with us it will then be easy to murder all of us without protest.”

“We need to get them before they get us!” Tosawi, ever the fighter.

“As much as we would like to, that will only make them come after us. The tribe’s safety comes first.” Countered Sanapia.

“Sanapia, is right.” The chief again. “War may be our drive but we will not run headlong into destruction if there is no need, our people have learned that lesson the hard way more times than I can count. We will ride out after John Reid settles with who he picks, so that at least the village will have fresh love on its heart. You may go.”

John waited till the rustling of the tipi stopped before sneaking back to help the womenfolk with the bison. With tensions so high maybe he should check on Rebecca and Danny.

~

If someone had told John that he would, one day, own four exquisite horses with no monetary effort on his part he probably would have laughed at them but as sure as the sun sets in the west John was holding the reins of four beautiful horses. Horses were highly valued among the Comanche so they were the perfect courting gift. How the hell was he supposed to keep all these? As usual he stumbled through nervous thanks but there was one thing wrong.

Tonto wasn’t here.

If they wanted this farce to be convincing Tonto needed to be on time. He may have garnered some clout with his bison but one cannot be too sure. And suddenly, as if he knew his presence was urgently required, Tonto was riding toward the settlement with an absolutely gorgeous horse in tow. Its coat was pure white and it had a stunning musculature. The rest of John’s suitors did not look happy.

And there was that confidence again, that countenance that Tonto seemed to be able to take on and off like a set of buckskin clothes. He looked like some legendary warrior from native myth, striking and ethereal. Tonto hopped off of his steed to lead the horse to John.

“For you, Kemosabe.” The horse nickered softly and nuzzled John, taking to him instantly.

“Why thank you, Tonto.” John tried to make sure that he was favoring Tonto with a look that said ‘you may be _the one_ ’ to further their ruse. He even purposely let his hand linger on Tonto’s as Tonto passed him the reins, a move that seemed to surprise Tonto judging his wide eyed look but was soon replaced with a look of almost genuine satisfaction. After everyone cleared out chattering amongst themselves John turned to face the white horse, pressing his forehead against the creature’s and holding its head in his hands.

“Now, what do I name you?” John had no idea why he was doing this, he had not named the others yet, but he felt like he _needed_ to do this.

“Silver…” said a voice over John’s shoulder, Tonto. He had no idea he was still there.

“Silver?” He the tested the name and received a giant, slobbery lick of approval.

“It seems he likes it, Kemosabe.”

As John ran his fingers through Silver’s mane he remembered something he had wanted to ask Tonto.

“You call me Kemosabe. What does that mean?”

“It means ‘faithful scout’. He answered after a pause. “You looked out for us with the traders. You made things fair.”

John couldn’t help but smile and bask in the unbidden warmth that came over him.

“Well, it looks like Silver and I both like our names.”

~

It was the final day of courting. The suitors will end with giving a valuable or significant trinket and at nightfall he would go to the tent of the one he chose. Like the two gift giving events before, everyone was present to watch the proceedings with rapt attention.

Tosawi approached first with an ornate hand mirror.

“So that you do not have to use the stream anymore…” He explains.

John goes warm with gratitude.

“…and you can always look good for me.”

John tried (and failed) to hide his blush.

Thankfully, the rest presented their gifts without such forward statements. Isa-tai presented him with an artfully made necklace, Sanapia favored him with a hunting knife, and Quanah gave him a high quality fur.  If there was one thing that truly pained John about this courting is that these four will have given him these gifts in vain and John had half a mind to return their things after the inevitable happens. Speaking of the inevitable, Tonto was late again and it did not go unnoticed. John saw him this morning, what could he possibly be doing?

Once it became clear that Tonto wasn’t coming any time soon the crowd started to disperse, his suitors included, reminding him that if Tonto does not arrive that night he has forfeit. The news ties John’s stomach in knots. What if Tonto doesn’t come in time? He warned him about going all out for him.

As John tends to his horses an unfamiliar feeling rears its ugly head: abandonment. What if Tonto wanted no part in this plan anymore? But Tonto would tell him if that were the case and why does that outcome give John such grief, it’s not like the rejection would be personal, it would just make John’s situation a bit difficult to get out of.

The sun’s light was almost completely extinguished when his suitors and the villagers came to surround him in front of his tipi, looking at him expectantly. John opened his mouth to protest but, truly, there was nothing he could say. Tonto was going to lose fair and square. He had to pick. But there was an ache in the lawman’s heart that seemed deeper than just the failure of their little ruse. He was about to give his reluctant answer until he heard hoof beats across dry ground. There in the meager light of the setting sun was Tonto, looking tired but excited.

Tonto approached and presented his gift without delay. It was rectangle shaped and wrapped as one would get something in a shop; the sight gave John a severe case of nostalgia and a moment of worry for Tonto because getting this from town with tensions so high could not have been easy. But he shook it off to take the gift from the other man’s hands, ignoring the shiver he made at the tiny brush of their fingers. John knew it was a book before he opened it which pleased him greatly and he could do nothing to hide his excitement when he saw what book it was.

A brand new copy Locke’s _The Two Treatises of Government_.

He looked up from the gold title cover to spew a tide of thanks but his breath caught in his throat. Their eyes locked and John felt his chest tighten with involuntary fondness. John had no idea what to do next, since Tonto had come so late inconspicuously walking to his tent as per the way of courting was out of the question. He sent an apologetic look to all his suitors and wished that he could do something to soften the eventual blow their egos will take; though this courting thing was absolute craziness it truly did flatter John to have four (five to the outside observer) warriors clamoring for his attention. He reached down to entwine Tonto’s fingers with his own.

“Lead the way.”

Once again Tonto gave him a look of surprise but proceeded to lead the way to his tent surrounded by the cheers of his people.

~

John woke up wrapped in his gifted fur in an unfamiliar tipi, a thing that startled him until he remembered last night. He looked for Tonto, who had chosen to sleep on the other side of the tipi, far away from his new house mate and John tried to ignore a momentary pang of hurt at the action. Tonto was nowhere to be found.

John pulled himself up and ran a hair through slightly unruly locks; now that the courting frenzy was over he could focus on a more pressing matter. Checking on Rebecca and Danny. He had not forgotten the private conversation between the chief and his warriors.

He had to leave.

He exited the tent to see the chief’s warriors on horseback and ready to ride out. Surprised, John went up to Tonto demanding answers. They were leaving sooner than he thought.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Tonto had a look that obviously revealed that he was hoping to get away while John was asleep, this only made him angrier.

“You were just gonna sneak off?”

Tonto hopped off of his mare, Scout, to push him toward the privacy of their tent because they were causing a scene. For once in John’s life he honestly did not care what kind of spectacle he was making but he let himself be led if only to get Tonto talking. Once they were inside John continued his tirade.

“We are going to meet-”

“You do realize that I’m going with you?”

Tonto looked as though the very thought of that affronted him.

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Tonto, I’ve lived through an ambush.”

“Fool’s luck. You were knocked out.”

“But I need to see Rebecca and Danny.”

Tonto’s eyes seemed to darken.

“Rebecca…?”

“My brother’s wife. I need to know if she’s okay!”

Relief came over Tonto’s eye before it was replaced with astonishment.

“You’ve been spying!”

“Of course,” John said, straightening up with a boldness he wasn’t sure he had. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. But you could have found that out from anyone, I just said that to make you confess. You are not quiet.”

“…dammit.”

While John agonized over his gullibility Tonto stepped forward putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me run with my brothers. If I come back we will go and look for you brother’s widow. You and me.” His hand tentatively moved from the lawman’s shoulder to his cheek. “We will only be away for a day or two.”

Against his better judgment John felt anger leave his body, those brown eyes calmed him and he was powerless to rebel against them.

“Okay.”

Tonto gently patted his shaved cheek and left the tent, John didn’t move until he heard them gallop away. As he exited the tent he felt something land on his shoulder and turned to see Angeni perched there.

“Are you my chaperone?”

The animal simply pecked at its wings.

John rolled his eyes and went to find something to preoccupy himself since he was too antsy to read his new book and was a little cross with the man who gave it to him in the first place.

~

That night he was lying on the floor of Kimama and Tseena’s shared tent, exhausted from playing with their little ones. He was idly feeding Angeni who was on his chest.

“Hey, Kimama?”

“Yes?”

“Earlier in my stay Tonto told me that he owed Angeni his life. Do you know anything about that?”

Kimama didn’t answer for such a long time he was sure that she didn’t him but eventually-

“Yes,” she said evenly. “I only know what has been told to me by my Tseena who was told by the chief. No one knows the story except the chief and his warriors. He trusts me not to tell so if I tell you this and you tell others, it comes back to me. Can I trust you?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“When Tonto was young he found two white men in the desert. He brought them to his village to be healed. One of those men was Cavendish. When the white men found silver in the river they asked Tonto where it came from. It is said that Tonto refused at first but then the men made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Something he truly wanted.”

“What was it?” John asked eagerly.

“I do not know. Tonto refuses to say.” She bit her lip as he face scrunched up in thought as if she in that moment could conjure it up for John right there despite it being a guarded secret of Tonto’s for years.

“Go on…”

“So in return Tonto took them to where the river began where they found more silver than any white man had ever seen. They took all that they could carry but they wanted to keep the place a secret…so they slew the village.”

John paused in his petting of Angeni.

“Oh God…”

“Angeni kept Tonto away by pulling at his hair or flying off with things and making Tonto find him. Tonto was found by some our villagers with the help of Angeni, starving and violently shouting about wendigos and spilling enemy blood on his people’s land.”

John tried to imagine a young Tonto, ravaged with grief, rage making his little body shake. He doesn’t think he could have lived after such a thing.

“The village was told that the attack on the other village was just the white men’s fault. To keep attention off of Tonto. He didn’t need any of that in his young life.”

~

When the warriors came the next day John was packed and ready on Silver wearing his proper lawman clothes, already riding at an easy gait away from the village so Tonto had to turn and follow him without pause lest he leave him behind. John didn't want to waste any more time.

“Where to?” John asked turning to his companion.

“Madame Red's.”

“The dancing place?”

Tonto favored the man with a chuckle.

“They do more than dance, Kemosabe.”

“What are you talking about?”

He only threw back his head and laughed.

“It is good to know that my husband is still innocent.”

Jon, not to be ridiculed, thought back to the flyer;  “exotic dancing”...innocent...oh.

“Why are we going there?” John with mild disgust and anger he couldn't place.

“The Madame knows things, we ask.”

Even though he felt confident that Tonto was doing what was best he could not help but to petulantly mutter, 'excuses'.

~

John was in a panic. They went to Red's only to find out that the settlements along the river were being attacked and then they arrived at the farm only to find bodies of loved ones, some of Cavendish's men and no Rebecca or Danny. He only calmed down when Tonto urged him to, telling him that he was no use to Rebecca and Danny exhausted and hysterical and that they were surely alive because if they were dead they would have been among the bodies.

The last part sunk in and made him think. Why take Rebecca _and_ Danny. Rebecca he could understand, men were disgusting in that way but why Danny also? What use do they have for a boy?

Burying the helpers and hands, while depressing, helped a bit because of the labor, it took his mind off of things and left him adequately tired for sleep.

“We will follow the horse tomorrow.” said Tonto, rolling out his mat and lying down; far away from John.

The gesture reminds John of what they supposedly are, at least in the eyes of Tonto's people. Maybe Tonto thought it made John uncomfortable to be close, keeping where John came from in mind.

“Follow the horse?”

“It will go back to Cavendish.”

“...I'm sorry I've dragged you around and made you do things you didn't want to.”

“You are...my friend; I would do these things for you and more.”

John felt pleasantly flushed when heard that, those words seemed honeyed and honest in ways he couldn't explain or truly prove.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Kemosabe.”

John is pretty sure he fell asleep first and was sure he could feel the other man's gaze upon him well into his dreams.

~

The horse died of exhaustion of course and John cursed their luck until his stoic partner asked him if he still had his brother’s medal. He gave it to him and followed him, having no idea what he was doing but found that he didn't care because he trusted this man implicitly. They came upon a cliff and Tonto held the medal up in front of him.

“Where the river begins...” he whispered.

John made he looked outwardly confused but he knew who could be there and berated himself for not thinking about it before. Tonto can tell him about it in his own time.

~

That what followed could probably be called the most exhilarating experience of his life. To put fear into those who deserve it, to make outlaws quake in their boots as he played the part of fearsome spectere.

But it also became the day that John beat a man bloody for the first time and by God did it feel good, even with the throbbing pain in his hand and Cavendish's ridicule ringing in his ears as the outlaw figured out that he was just as mortal and human as any other.

He felt a cold gun pressed into his bloody hand, the dark hand holding it in place more than his own.

“Finish him.” he heard.

“No.” he said looking up to see his husband, no, Tonto's eyes and it was there he saw it: rage. All the anger and pain, every tribesman’s scream and plea, years of holding an unintentional betrayal inside a raw and broken heart. And a hope this would be peace, but John could never do that.

“That's not Justice Tonto.”

“Justice is what a man must take for himself.”

“I can't believe that. I won't.”

“The wendigo cut out your brother's heart. Where is his justice?”

“Not like this,” they were in each other’s space now; John could even feel Tonto's puffs of breath. “I've lost my brother, you've lost your tribe but, we will not lose ourselves.

He didn't miss Tonto's eyebrows raise in surprise, his finger loosened and John took the gun.

“Let me take him to justice.”

For a moment, John thought he would have a fight on his hands but Tonto's dark eyes seem to soften, not just in relenting but, reminiscing, about what John had no idea.

“I will not go with you, I am not strong enough,” he walked over grabbing the outlaw a bit roughly but not truly harming him and made John get rope. Soon John was on Silver with Butch in tow.

“I will tell the village that it was me who ended it,” Tonto said as John readied his steed.

“What?”

“This is where it ends; you will not be coming back with me and they will want to know why you are not with me.”

The knowledge hit John harder than he would have thought. A tightening in his chest.

“You don't need make yourself look like the bad guy for me Tonto.”

Tonto shook his head.

“The village liked you, more than they have ever liked me. They do not hate me, but I will never be missed.”

John rifled through his coat gulping back unexpected tears, he pulled out his brother’s medal and pressed it into the other man's hand.

“This medal belonged to a good man, it deserves another.”

“Will two love birds hurry the hell up!”

They both tossed the outlaw a glare before turning back to the other. Tonto looked like he was going to protest but instead squeezed his hand and stepped back allowing John to ride on to town.

~

You never understand the statement “blood ran cold” until it happens to you. This was the exact feeling that washed over John when Cole made it obvious he was not what he seemed. He had the man at his mercy only to be forced into submission when the Calvary decided to joined the side of thieves and murderers.

Later when the firing squad attempted to put as many holes in him as a child’s play clothes he looked back on his life, what he did with it, what he had not done.  Rebecca and Danny.  His brother. But overall he thought of Tonto and for a terrible moment he realized…

That man loved him.

For a long time by the looks of it, before he had even properly met John. He didn’t know how that was possible but as he ruminated on the various looks thrown his way and the things done for him he cursed himself for being so oblivious.

He cursed _himself_ for falling in love too late.

“Ready…”

_Please forgive me, Tonto._

“Aim.”

_Stay safe._

“Fire”

_I lo-_

He heard a crash and then gunshots but felt nothing. There was an air of confusion and slight panic and surprisingly little noise until he heard the familiar sound of arrows. The unseen world around seemed to descend into chaos. Not long after, the car he was on lurched forward.

“Hold on, Kemosabe.”

“Tonto!” His surprise overrode his relief, “What’s going on?”

“No reason to be concerned!”

He sincerely doubted that.

“John!” he heard from his left.

“Rebecca, I’m coming for you!” He cried, praying that she could hear him.

As they began their journey he wanted so dearly to tell Tonto that he missed him, that he knew better now but things like that would be best said later, especially if Tonto was driving. He could hear a rumbling behind them.

“Tonto, what is that?”

“Nothing but, I need you to jump!”

“Left or right?”

“Left!”

He leaped, prepared for a jarring fall but, not the roll down an incline. After his rough landing hands were on him immediately, fingers reverently caressed his face before untying him and removing his blindfold. He wanted to embrace the man he thought he’d never see again but was interrupted by a large can which Tonto picked up to inspect.

“Kerosene.” he stated as his stomach dropped.

Tonto’s eyes widened and grabbed his arm, pulling him to run in the other direction only to run out of ground and drop into an underground river, saving their lives. They swam desperately to shore wracked with exhaustion.

Tonto sat down heavily upon the shore, John came and sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat off of each other bodies which comforted John. It was a sure sign that they were together.

“I know that the commotion was your warriors attacking.” John said with dread. “Will they be okay?”

“They have most likely retreated. Once upon a time that would not be the case. Many years ago my brothers and sisters would have run in, knowing that they would die and savor it for the Comanche live for war. [15] We still do but, Dan Reid taught us many things and one of those things was that a senseless death does no one any favors; it only leaves your children in this world alone. Leaves your people to die out,” looked out upon the dark water, “they will be hiding now, planning another attack.”

Relief filled John only to be replaced by anger as he thought of the men who almost killed him.

“You were right,” he said through gritted teeth, “there is no justice.  Cole controls everything; the railroad, the Calvary, everything. If men like him represent the law then I’d rather be an outlaw.”

“There is a time for the law. There is a time for justice. Just like there is a time when a good man must wear a mask.” Tonto pulled a familiar strip of cloth from his pouch. His mask.

John reaches out to take it only to change his mind and grasp the other man’s hand. He turned to his husband, a man who seemed to love him beyond his knowing him, a man who had no obligation to help him but did anyway. As looked into those dark eyes his decision was final, he wanted this man for however long the earth allow him to have him. He kissed him.

Tonto’s surprise was obvious but soon gave way to reciprocation. He kissed John deeply as if his whole life led to this moment, a moment he was sure he wouldn’t have. His hand grasped his husband’s wet hair and he tentatively pressed his tongue against his lips, his enthusiasm doubled when John open his mouth in acceptance.

This was how it was supposed to be, to be held close by this man. They parted, foreheads still touching and breath mingling.

“Is this real?” Tonto’s voice seemed so childlike and fearful, like John would disappear any moment.

“Feels real to me,” he moved in for another kiss but was interrupted by a whinny. They looked up to see Silver in a tree dining on its leaves and to top it all off he was wearing John’s hat.

“Something is very wrong with that horse.”

John agreed.

~

Convincing the warriors to stand back and let John and Tonto hatch the crazy plan was damn near impossible but knowing that the two were not separating may have helped smooth the supposed slight upon their honor. 

In the end they were successful, both Cavendish and Cole met their fitting ends, his sister in law and nephew were safe and if he got on another train again it would be too soon.

The grateful public tried to honor him with an obviously regifted pocket watch (he declined) and insisted he take off his mask (he declined).

“No, not yet.”

He then took his place on his faithful steed and left to spend time with his family, something that was long overdue.

~

Soon he found himself traveling the landscape righting wrongs and saving innocents with the man he loved by his side. A life he would have never imagined for himself in a million years but wouldn’t trade for the world. The tribe was sorry to see them go, a fact that surprised Tonto who labored under the impression that they weren’t fond of him, in actuality, they were just keeping their distance because he seemed to need it.

During their time of vigilante work they’ve learned some of the other’s quirks (Tonto’s insists on properly saying goodnight to Angeni) and preferences (John liked his meat slightly blackened). All in all they live in an odd domesticated bliss that contrasted to the arid, barren landscape that usually surrounded them even if John hasn’t gotten used to the idea that he can simply kiss the man whenever he pleased, when others weren’t around, of course. Tonto had gotten used to the idea from moment John kissed him first and abused the privilege on a daily basis.

But there was one thing that niggled the back of John’s mind. What had Cole and Cavendish offered that young boy so long ago? Tonto told him the story from his own mouth this time but neglected to mention the so called prize.

He never brought it up because it seemed too sensitive a subject for John to bring up so he resigned himself to hoping that Tonto would mention it himself eventually.

It became obvious that that wasn’t going to happen. Tonight he was going to ask and hope for the best.

They lay upon their bedrolls exchanging soft kisses; nothing too heated for their relationship hasn’t gone past a couple of caresses as a result of nerves and preoccupation with vigilante justice. Tonto was most pliable when he had his lips upon John so he chose that moment to ask.

“What did Cole and Cavendish offer you? I don’t remember you mentioning it.”

He felt Tonto tense up immediately before letting him go.

“I did not.”

John put a tentative hand to his husband’s shoulder.

“You can tell me Tonto, I won’t think any less of you. You were young.”

Tonto pulled away from him and John was afraid he was going to leave but he just simply sat up.

“Your father would come to my village when I was a young boy. He was our friend and he often played with me and the other young ones,” Tonto’s traced a random pattern into the dusty ground, “one day, he showed me a picture of a little boy, told me how we were close in age and how smart he was. That boy was you.”

John stopped rubbing his husband’s back in surprise.

“Every time he would visit I wanted to see that picture and hear more about you, I wanted to meet you.”

‘I fell in love with you’ went unsaid but was heard never the less.

“When the picture became more worn he gave it to me and got a new one, he thought I was amazed at the idea of a ‘picture’, not you.”

Since John was wrapped around his shoulders from behind he couldn’t see Tonto’s face but he could tell that the man was crying.

“Those brothers saw how I looked at it and told me that if I could show them to the silver, they could take me to you and like the little fool I was I believed them.”

John hurried to face him and held his husband’s face in his hands, kissing him gently.

“You weren’t a fool Tonto, you were a child-“

“A selfish child-“

“And children are selfish, Tonto, children don’t know any better so they have no choice but to be selfish to an extent,” He embraces the quivering man. “You didn’t know, please, forgive yourself.”

Tonto started to cry into his shoulder, no sob or shaking, John was sure his pride would not allow it but, still, it was something.

That night, they simply held each other close. And maybe Tonto held on tighter than usual.

\----

John placed his holsters one the bedside table and proceeded to get undressed; he could hear Tonto over at the wash basin. They were passing through and spending the night in one of Red’s rooms, Red didn’t want them taking up too much space so they didn’t have to make up an excuse to sleep in the same room.

Clad in only his nightshirt he slipped under the covers to watch his husband get ready for bed. After Tonto washed his paint off he petted and said goodnight to Angeni then proceeded to take off his vest and pants leaving him stark naked.

This took John by surprise, not because he hasn’t see him naked before (he has, in brief intervals) they’ve never been near each other in a state of or near undress as they are going to be tonight. Life out in the open where one had to be on their guard and ready for anything didn’t allow sleeping in the nude.

John hastily turned over to keep the situation from getting awkward. No sooner than when John had turned around he felt Tonto pressed along his back and arms wrapped tightly around him. Body heat felt more intense due to the lack of clothes. Slightly chapped lips pressed against his neck in a goodnight kiss and Tonto’s breathing seemed to even into that feigning sleep thing he does, Tonto only goes to sleep when John does. John knows this but Tonto thinks he’s sneaky.

Normally, his partner’s steady breath would put him to sleep but he could not take his mind off the naked body behind him. Sexual intimacy has not happened in their relationship as of yet. They were affectionate and close but the closest they had ever come to burning passion were deep kisses. This was partially due to their lifestyle but mostly it was them because, they could have easily had multiple short rendezvous in the lonely desert landscape even if they couldn’t get fully undressed. They were shy and inexperienced and it was just easy to blame it on the situation.

It not as if they didn’t want to. John has been woken up by a hard length rubbing unconsciously against him before and he had enough vivid dreams of him and his love but they were afraid. Though, lying there in the near undress and the comfort of a room was bring things up again, making him wonder what it would be like if he were daring enough to suggest the consummation of their marriage. Would Tonto feel just as daring as him at this moment in time.

John found himself rubbing his rear against his husband’s cock, not allowing himself to change his mind. The stuttered gasp was music to his ears and he soon felt himself turned over and put on his back. He would never get tired of that look. When Tonto looked at him, it was a look of awe, like he couldn’t believe that John was right there in front of him and looking away would be the same as losing him.

John pressed a soft kiss against the man’s lips and held onto his inky black strands. The kiss didn’t last long for Tonto soon turned his attention to his lover’s neck, one of his favorite places, leaving his mark and making John’s skin a nice, healthy pink.

Soon after, John’s toes were curling into the sheets as his lover stretched him with the aid of some olive oil (a hopeful impulse purchase by Tonto). John covered his face with his arms only to have them jerked away and pinned to the pillow. He’s never felt so exposed.

Tonto’s eyebrow raises in silent question and John give the nod that he is ready. Despite his assent he wasn’t prepared for the girth splitting him open but, he had wanted this so he pulled a deep through his nose and pressed back.

He dug his heels into his lover’s back as he felt him bottom out, it hurt, but goodness he had never felt so content. Tonto started his thrusts slow and held him like the most delicate glass, his dark hand squeezing the thigh around his waist the only true manhandling going on, hard enough to bruise.

As the old cliché goes, it was like they were made for each other. Their bodies arching and meeting in a natural rhythm and breath mingling. Every nerve was raw and exposed, making their pleasure reach its natural crescendo.

In the end they were hot and sticky and considering all things, they should have been uncomfortable but, in truth, it could not have been more perfect. Tonto laced John’s paler fingers with his own and pressed gentle kisses to his knuckles saying all things he needed to say without a single uttered word.

 No photograph could ever compare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Footnotes:  
> [1] Comanche painted their scalp along the parting with yellow, red, or white clay (or other colors). (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Hair_and_headgear)
> 
> [2] This, unfortunately, is me taking creative liberties. Comanches were just as patriarchal as most other societies. Boys grew to be warriors and hunters, girls grew to be mothers and wives. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Children)
> 
> [3] Fun fact: Comanche painted their face to suit their fancy, it all depended on the individual. Also, only black had a color meaning to them which was war. Though most likely not intentional, having Tonto’s partially black could be a cool literary move with this info in mind. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Body_decoration)
> 
> [4] Tseena is Comanche for wolf. I apologize for being unoriginal but when I thought of Tseena as a character, wolf seemed to fit. (http://www.native-languages.org/comanche_animals.htm)
> 
> [5] parfleche is a Native American rawhide bag, typically used for holding dried meats and pemmican. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parfleche)
> 
> [6] Named after Sanapia, who was a Comanche medicine woman and spiritual healer. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanapia)
> 
> [7] Named after Isatai, a Comanche warrior and medicine man of the Quahadi band. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isatai)
> 
> [8] Named after Tosahwi, a peaceful chief who led the Penateka Comanche tribe during the last decade of the "Indian wars" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tosahwi)
> 
> [9] Quanah means frangrant. There was also a Comanche chief and leader of the Quahadi band named Quanah Parker. (http://www.behindthename.com/name/quanah) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quanah_Parker)
> 
> [10] Angeni means spirit, I’m not sure if its tribal origins are known. (http://www.sheknows.com/baby-names/name/angeni)
> 
> [11] Kimama means butterfly. Unfortunately it’s Shoshone in origin but I really wanted her to be ‘butterfly’ and there is very little on Comanche language and names. (http://www.snowwowl.com/swolfNAnamesandmeanings.html)
> 
> [12] A shaving kit basically. It usually included a razor, strop, brush, and shaving soap. (http://sharpologist.com/2011/11/how-did-gentlemen-shave-in-the-nineteenth-century.html)
> 
> [13] There was no formal marriage ceremony, at least not a formal ceremony by white standards, for the Comanche at this time. The suitor paid a bride price (usually horses, for the Comanche valued horses extremely and true accounts of military feats for they lived for war) and the father then gave his daughter to the suitor if he was impressed. Their union was then sealed and publicized by cohabitation. Since John is a man by himself with no living father, I just made them court him. I also made it more interesting by adding more courting things. (http://www.encyclopedia.com/topic/Comanche.aspx) (Effin' long link)
> 
> [14] Once again this is me taking creative liberties. While there are quite a few accounts of queerness, particularly two spirited people, amongst some Native American tribes, my search didn’t turn up anything about how queerness was dealt with in Comanche society.
> 
> [15] Comanche men were eager to prove themselves in war. Boys were highly respected because they were expected to die young in battle. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Social_order) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Children)


End file.
